


That wasn't very Star Sober of you

by Memefricker69



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Victory
Genre: Drinking, Drinking Games, M/M, Other, Star Saber is a hopeless shonen protagonist mess, and God Ginrai is stuck cleaning up said mess, dick: hacked, just a regular day at the Autobot base lads, there are dicks involved but no actual dicking happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 18:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10519407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memefricker69/pseuds/Memefricker69
Summary: Drinking games and hotblooded young Autobot commanders don't mix that well.





	

Star Saber absolutely hated to lose or show weakness. And that personality trait of his was a double-edged sword to say the least. On one hand, his burning fighting spirit inspired the Autobots and kept morale at a record high. On the other hand, however…It meant that the young Supreme Commander would pour his entire spark into anything even remotely competitive, sparing nary a thought for whatever limits his body had.

And as his comrades would find out today, that included drinking games as well.

Perched on a bar stool in his medium-sized mode, the multicolored robot seemed completely unfazed as he downed yet another cube of highgrade before gingerly placing the empty container on top of a rather sizable stack. Across from him, Blacker’s stool swayed precariously as its owner, having reached the consistency of half-hardened head cheese in body and in processor, desperately clung to the table and the last shreds of his dignity.

“It’s my turn, Blacker!” Saber announced coolly, “Take this!”

Blacker let out a slurred wail of despair as the neon-lit crystal ball landed smack dab in the center of his sole remaining cube, splashing highgrade in his face.

“Goal! The Supreme Commander wins!” Laster, who had “ENERGON PONG REFEREE” spraypainted on his chassis in all caps, cartwheeled over to the table to raise the winner’s hand. Looking just about on the verge of tears, the utterly destroyed Blacker reached out a shaking hand to grasp his last cube, but instead spilled it all over the table and himself before dramatically slithering down onto the floor and curling into a fetal position.

“Bot down!” Laster announced, casually propping the unconscious Brainmaster leader against a wall next to a softly snoozing Braver. Braver’s head limply flopped onto Blacker’s shoulder, decorating the red plating with a string of drool. Composed and majestic as ever, Saber rose from his seat and slowly started to make his way towards the exit.

* * *

His duty finally done for the day, God Ginrai decided to drop by Sector One for a visit. As he walked into the bar, fancying a drink or two, he was greeted by a scene of carnage.

Unresponsive bots littered the ground, surrounded by puddles of fresh energon. The only survivor, a lethargic-looking Laster, was huddled up against a wall, using his own body to prop up the limp corpses of Blacker and Braver and prevent them from faceplanting onto the floor.

“What in the name of Unicron’s hepaticons happened here!?” he bellowed, his frame bristling with guns.

“Woah, cool it there buddy!” Laster urged, lazily slurping on a cube of highgrade, “It’s not like the Decepticons attacked or something! They may look kinda dead at first glance, but all of those guys have just been beaten in Energon Pong by the Supreme Commander!”

Had Ginrai been drinking right now, he would’ve blasted a hole in the ceiling and subsequently in Galaxy Shuttle’s belly with the sheer force of his spit-take. Thankfully, he wasn’t drinking yet, so the gentle giant was spared from yet another round of undeserved suffering.

“Wait…Where is the Supreme Commander now?” Ginrai felt his tanks churning with dread. A long-time friend of Saber’s and the only sober person in the room, he was all too aware of the fact that the young Autobot leader’s ability to hold his liquor wasn’t nearly as good as his swordsmanship.

“Oh, he said he was going to go outside for some fresh air!” Laster replied between slurps.

_Yikes._

Grabbing a cube from the bar stand and chugging it at record speed in order to prepare himself for the horror that lay ahead (he was tragically familiar with the traumatizing experience that was trying to snatch a catastrophically shitfaced jet-former out of the sky), Ginrai dashed out of the room, Laster’s half-hearted “Wait!” falling on deaf audios.

Fortunately, Lady Luck had smiled upon him that day.

There were no plastered fliers to be caught. Star Saber’s unresponsive frame dangled limply off the side of the base. He had simply been too uncoordinated to make it through the flight hatch.

Approaching the fallen warrior to assess the damage, Ginrai thanked Primus he had the foresight to fortify himself with a drink beforehand.

The Supreme Commander was, putting it lightly, a mess. Armor covered in dents, limbs splayed out in anatomically questionable positions, visor cracked from his disastrous landing, not to mention…

His interface panel was wide open. His spike poked out of its housing, still impressive in size despite being half-limp. And there was a dent in its side. Had he actually tried to take flight with his spike out?!

Ginrai didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Never had he ever witnessed a disaster of such magnitude.

As soon as this mess was over, he was going to return to that fragging bar and drink himself into stasis. But first thing’s first, he had to clean up this mess.

Resetting Saber’s half-transformed limbs into proper position was the easy part. The real Herculean labor was finding a way to return the Commander’s spike back to its housing. Any attempts to manually tuck it in proved wildly unsuccessful and only resulted in making Saber’s spike fully pressurize. Ginrai was at his wits’ end. But, being almost as stubborn as Saber, he wouldn’t allow himself to lose to a boner of all things!

So he hacked into the code controlling Saber’s interface array, forcing the spike to retract and the panel to close.

Now he could finally cross “hack a dick” off his bucket list. Not that he remembered how that particular entry got there.

“Mission complete!” Ginrai sighed as the latches of Saber’s panel finally clicked into place. He felt so exhausted that laying down on the floor for a nap seemed like an inviting option. But alas, he couldn’t afford to rest now. The Supreme Commander’s reputation was in his hands!

* * *

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!!!” Ginrai groaned as he made his way through the Shuttle Base’s endless winding corridors, reluctantly bridal-carrying the smaller mech as Saber drifted in and out of consciousness, “Supreme Commander, aren't you meant to be the galaxy's greatest swordsman?! Act like it, Primus dammit!”

In response, Saber rolled his head to the side and purged his fuel tanks all over Ginrai’s freshly polished shiny legs.

“Nope. I’m done.” Ginrai said and dropped Saber on the floor.

The rest of the journey to Saber’s personal quarters was spent dragging the drunken Supreme Commander along the floor like a sack of potatoes and finally suplexing him onto his recharge berth. Anticipating the hellish hangover that awaited Saber come morning, Ginrai left a medicine flask on the bedside counter. However, his concern for Saber’s wellbeing did little to quell the burning thirst for vengeance that raged inside his spark. The spirit of his ruined paintjob demanded to be avenged!

* * *

Waking up was torture. His processor felt like it was splitting, and his mouth tasted like a turbofox orgy had taken place inside it. Thank Primus some kind soul had left a medicine flask on his bedside counter!

Grasping said flask with trembling servos, Saber gulped down the medicine and collapsed back onto his berth, venting deeply as he felt life slowly return to his body, bringing with it a sense of soul-crushing embarrassment. The staticky memories of yesterday’s events flooded his processor. Oh Primus. What had he done!

“Papa?” a painfully familiar voice snapped Saber out of his trance.

Jean Minakaze, at the ripe old age of five, stared up into his surrogate dad’s cracked visor, his face wrought with concern, “Are you not feeling good?”

“…Yes. I got…Caught in a surprise attack by the Decepticons…” Saber forced out, trying his best to smile and failing. “…But it’s nothing serious. I’ll be okay.”

“Papa…” suddenly there was a giggle in Jean’s voice “Why are there…heheh..pffft…weenies on your face!?”

“Wait, wha…” Rushing over to the mirror on his wall, Saber recoiled in horror at his own reflection. Extremely detailed, anatomically impeccable drawings of spikes decorated his face. One of the spikes he could very distinctly recognize as his own.

“Did the Decepticons do that too, Papa?”

Saber sank to his knees.

“…Yes, Jean. The Decepticons.”

* * *

A few years later, Saber awoke to a distinct lack of Victory Leo in their shared berth and his face once again decorated by elaborate drawings of spikes.

Not even death could rid Ginrai of the memories of that horrible night.


End file.
